Ring, Ring, Ring...

January 9, 2009

By Anonymous

Image Credit: Lena K., Marblehead, MA

Ring, ring, ring, the phone rang but Claire was undecided about whether to answer the phone. Every Friday night at 12:00 am the phone rang. It rang seven times and then it went to voicemail. The caller however didn’t leave a message but a bunch of static was heard in the background. At first Claire took as normal but after a few times she started to freak. She bought a new phone and even called in the electrician to check the wires but he said all was fine.

Seven days had passed since the last call again like the other times Claire was in her master bedroom. She had disconnected all her phones and turned of her baby blue cell-phone. As she was reading Parental Control by Ray Booth she heard a distant ring. Claire was startled but then thought to herself that it could have been the neighbors phone but as soon as she started back to reading she heard the ring again and again. She got out of her leather bed, put on her pink bunny slippers, and slipped on her satin red coat. She glanced around her house waiting to hear the phone ring again but it didn’t. As she was going to head back to her bedroom she heard it again but this time she knew where it came from. She strolled toward the door and looked at the peep hole. There was a brown package on her door step with brown musty tape all around it. She opened the door, and snatched the package inside. She locked the door and headed back to her room. She closed her bedroom door and pulled down the blinds from her window.

15 minutes had passed and she still hadn’t opened the package. Instead she was sitting of her wooden floors staring at the package. Terrified but curious, she decide to open it. Claire grabbed the scissors from her night stand and opened it. Inside was the same phone she had disconnected and thrown away and next to it was a brown worn out letter. As she was about to pick up the letter she heard the voicemail from the phone and like the other 3 times you just heard static. The message ended and she stood up, she picked up the scissors and the letter, as she was going to open it she heard a faint scream coming from the phone. Startled, she dropped the letter and heard a voice. The voice was exactly like her dead husband’s voice. He told her in a shaky but creepy voice that could give you shivers through your spine that if she didn’t open the letter seven days before Halloween at 10:00 pm she will die. Terrified of what she just heard she fainted.

Three days had passed since Oct. 20th and Claire was being kept in the hospital for analysis. They had found some strange black marks that looked similar to rusted chains and were growing from her back to her arms and legs. The chains were expanding and spreading all over her body but she couldn’t feel it or see it. She even tried to argue with the doctors that everything was right but they didn’t let her go. Scared and dreading the day she had to open the letter, she had to plan her escape. As she was about to put to her plan into practice she felt something pull on her. She was startled by the feeling as she never felt it before. She felt like someone had just put extra weight on her back. She tried to stand up but couldn’t. She screamed desperately for help but no one noticed what was wrong not even her room mate. She tried to get away from the extra weight but felt herself being pulled deeper into the sheets. She wiggled and moved but wouldn’t budge and instead she felt herself be pulled into the bed. Deeper she sank as she tried to get out from the grip until she noticed that she was under the bed. Startled by this she stopped moving and decide to roll of under the bed. She successfully did this and sat up. Finally being able to stand up she practiced her plan but before she left the room she picked up a gray rusty key with the word love in it and placed it in her pocket. As she was stepping out from the elevator she saw the same musty, brown, package on the door way of the elevator. She picked it up quickly as the doors were closing and headed back to her room.

She sat there about 20 minutes wondering how the package had gotten here as she had no friends or family and her husband was dead. Then finally deciding to open it she got a needle from the counter and opened it. Inside was the same worn out letter and a lock with two pieces of rusted chains attached to it. She picked up the chains and at once they attached to her in the same place where the black marks were and the lock placed itself were her heart was. She couldn’t move but no one noticed that she was tied up. As she lay on her bed wrapped up with chains the letter opened, it said…

Dear Claire I’m here waiting for you in the hotel where we’re going to meet. I need you to come and pick up the package I’m supposed to hide. Please come around 11:00am and pick it up. The service rescheduled around 12:00pm and told me to have the package ready but at that time I will be long gone and you will have sent the package to US National Service. Remember to come at eleven am. Not at twelve pm. With love and care your husband, William Smith Charles P.S. Take care of Will and the address is in the card.

When she finished reading she started to cry, the memories of her husband came to her head. Claire didn’t cry for her dead husband but for her not being able to help. She felt guilty as she had not received the letter in time and he had died in a tragic accident. She remembered when the N.U.S.S. told her he had died when his car tumbled over a steep cliff when trying to get away from the Jas Service. She cried for a few minutes until she felt the chains tightened on her. She screamed in pain and felt like her heart was going to pop out when she saw the doctors come in. They had finally noticed that she was there and helped her onto her bed. Claire still screaming from the pain the doctors examined her. Finally not knowing why she kept screaming and asking who sent the package with the chains, they took her to a asylum as they thought she was crazy. But what they didn’t know is she dropped the key to the lock and she was dying slowly but painfully as her beloved was bringing her to him. The End

Subscribe

Get Teen Ink’s 48-page monthly print edition. Written by teens since 1989.